Take Me
by honeybooboochild
Summary: Katniss drops out of college to move in with her estranged mother in the sleepy southern town of Panem. She's not sure why she chose to come here but maybe the blue eyed boy that works at the cafe can help her figure that out/ Modern day AU
1. Chapter 1

**So here we are! My second fic :3 If you can't tell by this mega long chapter, I plan on this story being much longer than my eleven chapter "The Contract". This one will be much more mature as well, with some suspense, gore, and some romantic situations I suppose. So its rated M! Hah! I know this chapter kind of drags, but it was important to set the stage, get some backstory, and introduce most of the characters. I'll try to update again this week so that we can get to the nitty gritty here. I have big plans for this one! Review if you like, but feel free just to follow or favorite! Enjoy :)**

**-Honeybooboochild**

"**Take Me"**

**chapter 1**

Katniss watched as her breath formed clouds on the dirty bus window. She wasn't sure what stop it was, maybe she had even missed hers. It had been years since she had been here. She wasn't entirely sure where she was going.

She had been on the bus for several hours, traveling further and further and away from what she hoped would be her final semester at school. She hated it there. She wanted it all to be over. College was not what she thought it would be.

When the sky began to turn an icy blue, she knew she was getting closer. She hadn't been to Panem since she was a kid, and the most she knew about it was that it took an entire night to drive there from Philly, where she lived. Where her family used to live. After her freshman year at the university there her mother had taken a research job down south back in her hometown of Panem. Her mama packed herself and her other daughter up and fled into the night. It had been almost four years since Katniss had seen her mother. Since Katniss had seen her little sister. Her sister, Primrose, was only ten when they left. Would Prim still recognize her? Would they be as close as they used to be?

Katniss scowled to herself. As the sunrise threw cold daggers over the North Carolina hills, Katniss felt that the chill of the north had followed her. It was only November, but it was definitely almost winter here. It would probably get colder. She made a mental note to buy a heavier jacket. She never made much of an effort to take care of herself while in college, maybe she would start now.

Minutes later the bus pulled into a full fast-food joint parking lot, and instantly she was reminded of her grandparents. Always going out to Hardee's for breakfast at sunrise on Sunday before church. Even at dawn there were barely ever any seats.

Katniss gathered her rolling bag, duffle and pillow and shuffled her way into the aisle, muttering apologies to the sleepy passengers she bumped into on the way. Whatever chill she had was gone now, the physicality of the action brought a heat to her chest. When she was off the bus, she saw them instantly.

- (Katniss' POV)

I bit into my chicken biscuit like it was a fragile sandwich made of gold. I hadn't had one since I was probably in diapers, and it tasted better than I could have ever imagined. Prim, fourteen going on fifteen already, sat quietly across from me, every now and then looking over her shoulder or down at her smartphone. I tried to smile, but I couldn't bring herself to get over the tension. _She made it this way_. I looked over to my mother, quietly finishing her country ham. She seemed better than the last time I had seen her, and for good reason. _She got away from me. She ran away. _

"How long will you be staying?" Her mother whispered, her voice lighter than a flower. Already, already she was planning on having me out. My throat went dry. Years of missed birthdays, of unanswered phone calls, and this was what her mother decided to ask her. _When are you leaving. Please make it quick. _

I swallowed a bit of my coffee and mulled the answer over in my head.

"I'm not sure. Maybe until I find a job."

"You're not going back? To the college?" Another whisper.

"Nope. No way. Never." I stuffed a hash-brown into my mouth. I didn't want to get into this now. My mother seemed satisfied with it anyway, and wiped her mouth with a napkin.

"Well your bed's made up at grandma's and grandpa's. That's where we live now." _Where you live you mean. Where you live without me. _

I simply nod. She and Prim help me with the few bags I have and we load it into her shiny new Outback. I sit in the back seat and watch as Prim fidgets with the fancy radio. The reception sucks down here. She settles for some pop song with a country twang. I want to gag.

It takes about forty minutes to get to Panem from the Hardee's. I had thought it looked too developed of an area to be the town I spent my summers in when I was young. My grandparents lived in an old white farmhouse at the top of a big hill. The only house up there. With their own winding dirt road. As I felt the Outback's suspension pick up the worst of the ride, I was secretly glad my mother had bought the shiny new car. All wheel drive, or no wheel drive.

The big old farmhouse hadn't changed much since my grandparents died. Wood panelling on the walls, oil lamps, white hand-crocheted runners on ALL of the tables. The only modern update was satellite TV and wifi, which according to Prim, was the best in town. I looked down at my own prepaid cellphone, much simpler than Prim's smartphone, to see that I had no bars. Not that I had anyone to text or call anyway. Still, a cellphone let me feel safe and secure. I was starting to feel less of that. I felt like I was in a room full of strangers.

Mom offered to take me on a quick tour and I agreed mechanically. Her office was on the first floor, the dining room right next to it; kitchen and living room joined together in an open floor plan, separated by wooden columns connecting to beams on the ceiling. The kitchen had looked slightly newer, with a shiny chrome fridge and clean white granite on the counter tops. It was simple.

Mom and Prim's rooms were on the second floor, along with a multipurpose room that housed an old desktop computer and a couch. Some board games sat on shelves, some of Prim's old toys hung out of bins. I could say a layer of dust on them. Obviously they hadn't been disturbed in a while. I scan the room for another detail, something from my past. I had hoped that my mother kept it. But its obvious absence left a reassuring emptiness in my heart. Hope was dangerous, and I had learned to survive without it. Without my mom, and without my sister. They left me. That was their choice.

She shows me their bathroom, specifying that its theirs, and turns to take me up to the third floor. This is grander, more open. No green carpeting like downstairs, no there's dark hard wood on the floors. She'd been trying to restore it she says. The walls are white and sheet-rocked, no panelling. Next to the staircase there's an open parlor with a desk, a bookshelf, and an armchair. I look to my right and see my bedroom door. I know its mine because there's a hand lettered sign on it with my name. Someone took the time to decorate a small chalk board with wooden katniss plants and paint my name in white on it. It screamed south, and dare I say it, brought a smirk to my lips. Without taking direction from my mother, I ventured into the room on my own. It was large, the size of the living room downstairs. A bed, my own desk, a small sofa and some shelves. A coffee table stood in front of the sofa, and there was space for a TV in front of that. I have a closet and my own bathroom on the right.

"I've been working on it...for a while Katniss." My mother seems to choke on the words. I stare at the room, walls blazing white. There's a sage green quilt on the queen sized mattress, and on top of the pillows lays the small stuffed cat I had been looking for just minutes before downstairs. I begin to smile, but quickly shut off the action. If my mother had been making a room for me at her house, why hadn't she told me earlier? Why hadn't she made an effort with me? Instead of leaving me at a college hours away with barely any notice? No money, no phone, no nothing.

"Are you hungry at all?" She whispers.

"No. We just ate."

"Okay, I'll have Prim bring your things up, I'll let you get settled in..." Her voice dissipates as she leaves.

_I was barely eighteen. I was wearing a black dress. I was at the cemetery in the city, watching my father being lowered into the ground. No one held me. No one held my sister either. My mother hadn't been able to make it to this part of the funeral. My mother had been a doctor once. My father had been alive once. _

_I hear him banging from the inside of his coffin. "Get me out of here! I can't breathe!" He screams. I rip at my hair and yell at the priest continuing the ceremony. He throws a small handful of dirt into the open grave. I run up to him and grab at his robe, can't he hear my father scream? "Katniss! Please! I can't breathe!" He's alive! I know he is! No one will believe me. I turn and look at Prim. Her eyes are so sunken, she's like a corpse. A corpse with the most golden hair I've ever seen. Its growing longer and longer the more I stare. _

_I turn and see my father, standing behind me. He picks a gun up and brings it to his mouth. He fires it. He does this again and again. He doesn't fall. His expression doesn't change. He is diligent, even in death. I turn again, and see his mouth, dripping with blood. He screams. "Katniss!"_

I've soaked my sheets again. Years of nightmares and you would think I would have learned to put a towel down by now. I pull my hair back into a ponytail, and take off my long t-shirt, cold and damp from my sweat. I cringe and throw it to the other side of the room. That shirt had been Gale's, a loan from my best friend.

I returned to bed, not bothering to put on a new change of clothes, instead I lay a towel down- in anticipation of more nightmares.

Gale. I wonder what he's doing? I don't know where I'd be without him. I'm surprised I could leave him. I had been friends with Gale since high school, and we ended up at the same college. I had always assumed I would end up marrying him, I figured he'd be a better choice than most. When my father died, he took "best friend" to a whole new level. He got me a job, he taught me how to apply for student loans by myself, he bought me my prepaid phone and taught me how to put minutes on it. He let me live with him rent free. He tried his hardest to save me. He saw how my mother started visiting less and less. How she never called. When I told him she moved without warning, he introduced me to his friend Whiskey. When I wanted to try out having sex, he let me try it on him. I didn't like it. He never tried again. Gale was basically everything and anything to me. When I told him I wanted to leave school, he's the one who convinced me to go find my mom. _You have to do this someday anyway_. He said. _How old is Prim now? Do you even know? _I shuddered at the thought.

I had missed some of my sister's most important years. I could have been there for her, I should have been there. But It wasn't my fault! My mother called me one day, to tell me, that they were already in Panem. And had been for a week. The next time I would hear from her would be two weeks later. I cried on the phone to her. She tried to reassure me and say that it was temporary, that she was doing chemical research there in the game lands. I asked her if I should take the bus down for the holiday, and she crushed me when she said _No. Better not. _

But I still hoped. I still hoped I could talk to her. That we could go back to the way things were. She had changed so much since my father died. I knew she loved him, we all did, but why did she run away from me? Did I look that much like my father? We shared the same olive skin and dark hair. The same gray eyes. The same sharp nose and chiseled cheek bones. Some people even said we sounded alike. Was it that terrifying to her? Was she that weak? She had to be.

I asked her to visit until I couldn't ask anymore. She didn't want me there. And then the phone calls stopped. And she stopped answering her phone when I tried calling her. And then she changed her number.

Someone knocks on my door before I could get deeper into my own panic. I throw on another huge t-shirt and open the door. Its Prim. She's too much of a woman now, I can't look at her. She looks like a replica of my mother. Blonde and pale with sparkling blue eyes. She may even end up taller than me. She's a soft southern beauty for sure. And I ended up harsh and cynical like the city we were born in.

"Can we talk Katniss..." she whispers, I can hear a slight twang in her voice. No evidence of the nasally northern accent we had when we were kids. She's a stranger. Still, I let her in and return to the bed, quickly covering up the towel with my blanket. She doesn't need to know that I have night terrors and sweat all night.

"You know...Mom never let me talk to you on the phone right?" I stare into space. "I asked and asked. I wanted to talk to you so bad. But she just wouldn't let me have the phone. It got to the point when I gave up." She looks down and shields her eyes with the side of her palm. She shakes a little. She's crying.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't know you." She chokes out. The sentence catches me off guard and instantly its like she's cracked something in me. The tears come and I pull nervously at my hair. She looks up and joins me on the bed, leaning in for an embrace. I relish in the closeness, forgetting any tension there had been between us. We had never had the chance to heal together. Our father died, and our mother took her away from me. We hadn't had our chance to mourn as sisters. I cursed myself for reminding her of the past. I sniff my tears away and stroke at her hair.

We stay up all night together, talking about everything and anything two sisters could. College parties, first kisses, first anythings. She's older and she needs these talks. I'm dumbfounded but enjoy it. I hadn't been able to make any girlfriends in Philly. I must have missed Prim too much.

The next morning Mom goes out early to the labs, but drops Prim and I off in the town square. We might be the only family who doesn't attend church here, and so the square is empty. Prim quickly shows me around the main street, showing me good places to get a sandwich and trendy stores that ship scarves down from up north. My gloves are thin and my black hoodie is not adequate in this morning chill. I make a mental note to keep an eye out for any stores that might sell jackets, and most importantly I try to find "help wanted" signs. I had to quit my job at the school when I left, and now I was feeling powerless again.

"You're cold Katniss aren't you?" I nod, I can feel my nose getting red. Prim smiles and grabs my wrist. We walk down the street until she stops at a little cafe. "Remember this place? Mellark's? The only place that serves bagels for at least fifty miles?" I smile. My grandparents took us here a lot when we were little. I remember my dad chewing on the bagel, insisting he wasn't in North Carolina, he had to be up north in the city.

I cringe. I had almost forgotten about the nightmare I had last night. That one was particularly gruesome.

In reality, my father hadn't committed suicide. He was killed in the line of duty. He was a cop. At one time, he had been a detective. But he given that up to "clear his head" as he put it. Maybe if he had stayed in missing persons, he wouldn't have been killed walking the beat.

"Primrose!" A sturdy voice sings. The person is tone deaf, but the voice is pleasant and cheerful. Its hard to be annoyed at.

"Peeta, this is my older sister. She's home from school for a while." Prim beams, she seems proud of me. What do I have to be proud of?

Peeta extends his hand to meet mine. I return the shake.

"Peeta Mellark. You're Katniss right?" His voice is in between that of a boy and a man. He can't be much older than me. His name rings a bell.

"Peeta...yeah. We played together when we were little right?"

"You remembered." He smiles, and there's something sad about it. So odd. He lets his blonde hair fall over his eyes a little, as if he's trying to hide them. He looks as if he hadn't slept in weeks. "What can I get you pretty ladies." He snaps back into a cheerful demeanor, leaving me to second guess myself. Maybe I hadn't seen him look like an emotional wreck for a split second.

"Two Mexican hot chocolates...a croissant for me and...I don't know for Katniss. What'll you have?" I cringe at the words 'Mexican hot chocolate' but I try to trust Prim on that one. I look over the glass case filled with baked goods, and I can't decide. I look up at Peeta, only to find him staring at me with the most pitiful look. He looks like he's staring at a sick puppy or something.

"Surprise me Peeta. I don't know whats good, so I'll take what you think is best." I try to be friendly. It works and I shake him from his agony. He hands us two paper cups and our treats in bags. We sit in the front of the bakery and I sip the drink. Its thicker than regular hot chocolate, and tastes homemade. There's a slight kick of chili in it, and I love it. I can't believe I didn't trust Prim. I smile contently and look inside my paper treat bag. I pull out something slightly larger than a garlic knot, but not as big as Prim's croissant. Its piping hot. I take a bite and in an instant I'm in love. Its gooey and melty and cheesy and heavenly. I make Prim try it, and she loves it too. She goes back up to the counter to buy a few more. I look outside the front window, to see the square slowly filling up. People are dressed in their Sunday best, and I see many looking toward the bakery, getting ready to grab a quick post-sermon breakfast. I look over to the front counter and see Peeta nervously straightening his hair and readjusting his apron.

The bell on the door handle rings and an old man with blanched hair and a cheesy tweed suit steps in. He's got an old fashioned pocket watch hanging from his waist coat and he smells like a funeral parlor.

"Good morning sir! How was the service?" Peeta says through smiling teeth. He doesn't look very comfortable. The man brings a black handkerchief to his mouth and coughs before answering.

"Good sermon today." He grunts. He coughs again and then raises his hand. "Black coffee Peeta. You know how I take it." Peeta makes him his order, and hands it to him without accepting his money. He nods gratefully and takes his leave, but not before I notice him glance at Prim and I. I swore I could see him grinning. His teeth were stained a rusty color.

"That's Congressman Snow. He comes home from D.C. on the weekends to attend service." Prim whispers. Her southern drawl coming out even more. Like Peeta, she seemed uncomfortable at the very sight of this man. I sipped my hot chocolate as my eyes followed him to the square. He seemed pretty popular among the older set, tons of old ladies were fawning over him right now. I notice they all dress rather dark for Sunday mass. Rather old fashioned too. Whatever. The south is the south.

"Mind if I join y'all for a bit?" Peeta drags a chair over to where we're sitting.

"You sound so funny when you say y'all!" Prim giggles.

"So do you!" He laughs and musses her hair. I take another sip, still intrigued by the stiff politician outside.

Peeta and Prim engage in effortless banter. They obviously know each other, everyone in this town seems to judging by the events in the square. They're probably all related too. Which I guess would mean that I might be also...I shake the thought away. I have no where else to go. This has to do.

"What brings you back to Panem after so long Katniss?" Peeta asks while getting up to pour himself a hot drink. I try to quickly think of how to answer this question. I had been practicing for conversations like this in my mind for weeks.

"Change of pace I guess." my voice is flat. He doesn't question me, just stares while he sips his drink. His blue eyes seem to see right through me. He must suspect there's more to it. He might even know already. News probably spreads quickly here.

"I tried college once. It was alright I guess...Might go back one day." He says into his paper cup, his eyes never leaving mine.

"You in college Peet? Now that's funny!" Prim giggles and Peeta pretends to be mad. Peeta and Prim get on so well, you'd think they were either brother and sister, or dating. My eyes narrow at the thought of Prim with a man this much older than her, but come to think of it, there probably aren't that many prospects around here.

"You twenty-one yet Katniss?" He stares me down.

"Do I look it?"

"No."

"I'll be twenty-two in May." I grumble. Still as youthful looking as ever. I guess its a compliment.

"The pub down the street is where kids our age hang out. Sometimes younger ones sneak in, but the bouncers know everybody, so they get thrown out." He sticks his tongue out at Prim. So Prim sneaks into bars...huh. Again, I regret not being there for her during puberty.

"Anyways they got good food too if drinking isn't your thing. You should come by with me so you can meet the crowd." I don't even need to think about it.

"I don't know Peeta. I don't mind bars, but I don't know if I want to get drunk with any townies...yet."

"Well at least you said yet!" He smiles. I smile back. Its hard not to.

"Well I gotta get back to the house, I have a report due for school tomorrow." Prim pipes in. We say our good byes and make our way up the street, turning to face the long walk up the hill to our grandparent's house. Our grandparent's have been dead for years, but their presence seems to hang in this town like a bad smell. Even though our property is surrounded by trees, autumn leaves the landscape barren, and the image of the house on the hill is an ominous sight from in town. Its cold.

The walk is shorter than I thought, and within ten minutes I'm indoors, warm again. Prim disappears up the stairs without a word, and I hear her door shut softly. She must really need to work on that report.

I end up in my room, unpacking clothes and putting them into the antique white dresser agains the wall. Everything about this room is white. The couch, the throw pillows, the bed frame, the furniture. The only color is my stuffed black cat and light green quilt. The room is pretty, but there's still a coldness here. Everything about this town seems a bit crisp and chilled.

As I put my things away, I can't help but wonder, _am I making the right decision? _

I'm placing my last pair of socks in the top drawer of my new dresser when my lamp on my desk turns off. Half of my large bedroom melts into buttery shadow without the aid of additional light. I chalk it up to a dead bulb, and make my way to the door so I can run downstairs to grab a new one. Then I see the plug on the floor. I pick it up and replace it into the old socket, something my mother probably didn't think to replace. Instantly the light returns, and my room is once again bright and white. And cold.

Maybe there's a draft from the attic, but I don't feel like looking for it. So I find myself in the kitchen making hot chocolate on the stove. The way my father used to make it for me, by melting a bar of chocolate with milk. I smile when I find the same brand of chocolate bar in the cupboard, at least Prim was able to keep that piece of our father here.

It takes me a minute to figure out the electric stove, but soon I have a pot of boiling milk and melted chocolate. The aroma fills me with something wonderful, and I let myself smile. As I pour it into a simple mug, I wonder how Peeta makes his "Mexican" hot chocolate. Is it chili powder? I lean against the counter and blow away the steam emitting from the chocolate brew in my hands. With eyes closed I replay the events of the day in my head. Prim and I becoming friends, becoming sisters again. Touring the town my mother grew up in. The town I spent my summers in when I was younger. I tried to think of my grandparents. But something was wrong. I could barely remember them.

I grimaced.

Had it been that long since they passed? There was something else wrong. I didn't remember much of those summers. I remembered Peeta. I don't remember anything else. What did Prim and I do here when we were little? Prim was probably too little to remember, she probably would have been an infant or toddler during our time here.

I sipped on the hot chocolate. It had to have been because I was just too young to remember. But I wasn't that young when my grandparents died. Did I attend their funeral? Maybe I didn't. It was while I was in college. A little before my mother abandoned me in Philadelphia.

What time is it.

I pull the prepaid Nokia out of my pocket to discover its still early, and confirm it by looking out the window. Its still daylight. I pull on the end of my braid and place the mug in the sink. My head's pounding.

My room's unpacked. Prim is doing school work. Mom is still at the lab. I should probably take this time to get myself settled in town.

"Prim I'm gonna go for a walk into town!" I call up the stairs towards her room. It takes a little while before she answers me, and when I'm satisfied I pull on a light jacket of my mother's I find on a coat rack near the front door.

If it was chilly this morning, its downright cold now. With every step I feel fallen leaves shatter beneath my sneakers and the chill creeps into my toes. Its almost like walking in snow. I guess I need new socks or something, these must be too thin.

A lot of the shops have begun to close- dusk on a Sunday still has meaning for these people, and as the sun begins to set I see the old fashioned wrought-iron street lamps turn on one by one.

Mellark's Cafe is one of few storefronts brightly lit. It even seems busy. The bell on the handle rings happily as I step in. Most of the tables are filled, and I notice a few people look up from their conversations to look at me. I want to yell "yes its me Katniss Everdeen. I moved to town. Now mind your own business" but instead I saunter up to the front counter.

"Hey Katniss! Back for some more of my buns?" Peeta smirks with an eyebrow raised.

I stifle my giggle as I shake my head.

"Nah I'm just bored."

"Might I recommend the veggie cream cheese? I made it myself this morning. Oh on a delicious sun dried tomato bagel..." I smile and nod. He waves at me as I take out my wallet.

"Katniss no, this one's on me." I ignore him as I take out some cash, which of course he won't take. "My shift is just about over. My brothers just got here for the evening shift. How about I make myself a matching bagel and I join you." I shrug my shoulders wordlessly signaling a yes.

After he grabbed his coat and our bagels, he lead me outside, waving a few goodbyes to some nosy customers. I don't ask where we are walking, and just focus on the delicious food in my hands. I didn't realize how hungry I was. We walk to the end of the main street and I see a small park. The church lies next to the park fence and a cemetery sits on the other side of the small worship building. The park is cheerfully lit with some vintage lightbulbs on wire and a few pendant flags hang parallel to them with the mascot of the local high school printed on them. He sits at a cozy looking wooden picnic bench and I follow suit. He places his bagel on the table and pulls something out of his leather jacket pocket. He places it into his mouth and flicks a lighter in front of it.

"Cigarette?" He mutters through clenched teeth. I shake my head no. I didn't take Peeta for a smoker. Gale and I used to smoke menthols when we drank, but I hadn't drank in a while. Peeta nods and puts the pack back in his jacket, exhaling smoke and through his nose.

"So why are you back? Like for real why." His cheerful demeanor from the cafe is no where to be seen.

"I-I'm not sure." I wasn't ready for such a blunt question from him. I suppose I could call him a friend, but I hadn't seen him since we were children.

He nods in understanding. He brushes his hand through his blonde hair, glowing in the light from the wires.

"Sorry for being so direct. I was just curious." He takes a large bite from his bagel and closes his eyes. "Your mother showed up here a few years ago without a word. Put Prim in the schools. Ignored me whenever I asked about you. Been asking about you for years." He wipes his mouth against his leather sleeve.

"Yeah. Its...complicated."

"I know." He puts his hand up to my chin and turns my head towards him. Again I'm surprised by his directness. His eyes are looking right through me, even in this dim light they're neon blue. He seems to be searching me for something. What is he trying to learn from me? My head starts to hurt again. He pulls the cigarette from his mouth and turns to exhale. I'm sad to see his eyes leave mine.

"Sorry bout the smoke." He says as he turns away. I'm frozen on the bench. That was the hottest exchange I've ever had with anyone. I have goosebumps. Where the hell did silly Peeta go and who is this serious bad boy in the leather jacket? "A lot of people turn to vices in a town like this. Smoking, drinking, its a great way to pass the time." He throws his finished butt under the bench and finishes his bagel. I still don't know how to carry this conversation, but he seems content with me just listening.

"You got a phone?" He whispers. I nod and pull the Nokia out from my mother's jacket.

"Do me a favor..." he says as he takes it and starts punching the key pad. "You call me if you ever need to."

Peeta walked me to the foot of my hill in an awkward silence. I could feel him watch me walk back up to my grandparent's house, and I could smell him smoking another cigarette. Something was just so off about what just happened. Shouldn't we have hung out at the park like a couple of young twenty-somethings? Eat a bagel, maybe even grab a beer like he suggested earlier? Did he sit me down in the park to warn me about something? Why the hell was I so turned on by this creepy stalker version of Peeta?

I pulled off my mom's jacket and placed my phone in my back pocket. The house was exactly like I left it before, Prim still in her room, a messy pot in the sink. I ran upstairs and into my room. I felt my phone vibrate.

_Text me when you're in your room. _It's Peeta...I slip my shoes off and begin typing when I notice something is different. I could have sworn I left my light on. Its dark outside now and I fumble to my desk when I realize just how different it is.

The lamp is unplugged again.


	2. Chapter 2

Take Me- Chapter 2

"_You got a phone?" He whispers. I nod and pull the Nokia out from my mother's jacket. _

"_Do me a favor..." he says as he takes it and starts punching the key pad. "You call me if you ever need to." _

"I'm a little confused."

"Bout what?" Peeta asks me as he runs his hand through his hair. I watch as he lets it go and his hair springs forward. My hand itches to touch it; but I retreat into the sleeve of my mother's jacket, trying to focus on the bitter chill rather than the way the faint, dirty haze of the light bulbs reflect in Peeta's eyes.

"I don't know. Maybe its because I just moved or something but...I just feel weird."

Peeta gets off the bench and moves in front of me. Immediately I am aware of the position we must look like we're in, and turn side to side to make sure no one is watching. He squats in front of me and brings his hands up to my face again.

He studies me, briefly, and yet I can feel him learning almost too much. I immediately feel uncomfortable, and recoil against his touch.

"Lets get you home before it gets too dark."

"Wha-what was that?" I can still feel his hands on my cheeks even though they are stuffed in his jean pockets. My skin is burning.

"Whatchu talkin bout Willis?" He smiles, extending his hand out to me as he stands. I take it and rise cautiously, unsure of my footing. His dark demeanor is no where in sight.

He walked me to the foot of my hill, and when I heard the leaves stop crackling, I couldn't help but turn to face him, wondering why he wouldn't walk further.

"You remember to call me if you want, anytime." His face has taken on the shadows of the tree branches above us, and I sense warning in his voice.

"Peeta..." I began, hoping to have a conversation to clarify all of this. In the darkness his eyes seemed black, and I could see his fingers twitching at his sides. I buried my words and closed my mouth, the discussion would have to wait.

We make eye contact, and again I can feel him search me. What was he looking for? Why did it always feel like he was looking for something?

"Goodnight." I whispered. The entire night had weighed on me, and soon I found myself trudging up my hill, the walk feeling longer than usual. I was out of breath by the time I reached the porch. I turned and could see Peeta lighting another cigarette, the orange ember in the distance the only clue to his location. He had waited until I got to my grandparent's house to truly leave. Why did he stop at the foot of the hill? It would have been nice to talk to him some more; to have some company in this darkness.

My light in my bedroom was on. I shook my hair with a free hand and tried to make sense of the night. I must have never turned it off. I carelessly strip down and throw on a large t-shirt, leaving my clothes on the floor for another time and another energy.

Soon I was on my bed, fingering the light green quilt. I wanted to smoke after watching Peeta light two. My tongue danced beneath my teeth, imagining the cool menthol on my lips.

_ The first drag I felt nothing. The second, a slight milky numbness on my tongue. My blood felt looser. My head felt lighter. My worries had left me. Without realizing it, I had 'chiefed' the entire cigarette in only a few puffs. Gale laughed at me. His deep, throaty laughter reminiscent of rustic music. I smiled as I put the butt into his ashtray. I was proud of myself. I hadn't coughed, I hadn't chickened out. I had smoked an entire cigarette like it was my first glass of water in months. I laughed along with him, the action spilling from my body- it had been a while since I let myself laugh. _

_ My release is cut short as he crushes his lips to mine. His tongue searches my mouth, and I can feel his greed as his hands grasp my neck. I'm not sure how to feel. All I really wanted to do was laugh. _

_ But tonight I was on top of the world. I was drunk. I was high. I was anything I wanted to be. Gale found me sexy. As long as these things were true, I was in power. I was independent. I let his hands find his way into my pants. I leaned back against the wall and relished in his touch. He was clumsy, but I was his queen right now. He moaned against my neck, his teeth teasing at my skin. He pushes a finger into me, and I inhale sharply. This feeling is better than anything I've felt. I only let him do this to me. I brace myself against him as he thrusts faster and faster, my knees buckling when he curls his finger towards my cervix. I moan his name out loud. I can feel his lips smiling against my neck. _

_ As powerful as I tell myself I am, he owns me right now. And he knows it. _

_ "Mmmm Katniss...you're so wet." He sighs. I can feel my cheeks redden, the last thing I enjoy doing is admitting anything to anyone. Instead of talking back, I push my hips outward, allowing him to penetrate me further. "Alright, I can take a hint." He pulls his finger from me and begins to take off his white t-shirt. _

_But its not Gale I see when he stands again. _

_Its Peeta Mellark. _

My phone's alarm blares in the most annoying, outdated, midi jingle. I almost throw it against the wall.

The pool of liquid between my legs is just another reminder of how much I hate my ancient cell phone. I had never turned off my old school alarm. The sun had just begun to rise. I was terribly aroused. My body was trembling from falling asleep on top of my quilt, but the chill is quickly forgotten when I begin to replay my dream in my mind. All the practicing with Gale had lead me to discover my own body, and my own hands found their way to my center instinctively. I trailed my wetness over myself, inhaling deeply as I thought of the piercing blue eyes in my dream. The way his shoulders seemed so sturdy, and his tan skin against mine. I could barely remember what Gale had been wearing, but I could easily imagine Peeta's frame as he pushed my body against the wall, claiming my lips in secure kisses, the most stable feeling I've ever felt. Nothing like Gale, who I've only fucked when drunk. Gale was clumsy and greedy. Peeta was reverent with his mouth. Or at least, that's how I'd imagine him to be. He would taste like tobacco and whatever sweets he's made at the bakery, I'm sure. His hair would feel like heaven in my hands as he would penetrate me, I'd have to grasp it for dear life to prevent my own premature release. Everything about this fantasy was so lusciously real.

And before I can come, I begin to feel ashamed. How could I fantasize about Peeta like this? The first time I've seen him since we were kids. He gave me a bagel. Was that any excuse to fuck his brains out?

Oh I hope so.

I cleared my head with a cold shower. It was something I often did to ease my demons. My own guilt prevented me from achieving a release.

After hearing the front door slam several times, I figured I was alone for the day. Mom was at work, and Prim was off to school. It was Monday after all. I contemplated going back to bed, and maybe fingering myself. I cringed, laziness was a talent I never could quite muster.

Instead of indulging in my own sexuality all day, I decided to go job hunting. more businesses were open since it was Monday, I felt the odds could be in my favor.

Three gift-shops, a diner, and a laundromat later and I'm about to give up. This place is chock full of family businesses. No one wants to hire the Everdeen brat. Who does she think she is anyhow?

I almost turn back for the hill when I see a dusty old office across the main street. I can barely make out the white "help wanted" sign against the filthy shop window pane. If this is my one chance at having any source of income, the powers above have a sick sense of humor.

The door is quite heavy, and I barely make it inside without twisting my ankle. The laminate wood paneling on the walls remind me of an Old Spice commercial from the 1970's. It smells like bourbon, or vodka- probably both.

I hear a man snoring from behind the reception booth window, but there's no one in sight. I rap my knuckles against the window, and almost yelp when a man sits up at the desk.

"Y-yes. Can I help you sweetheart?" He growls. I cringe. Could this man's mouth be the source of that smell? It smells like a bar in here.

"That sign in the window. Are they hiring?" I manage to get out. He stands and limps to the door of the booth, exiting and opening an adjacent door to a hallway in one motion.

"After you missy."

We reach an office and he motions to a chair in front of a stately looking desk. I thank him, and expecting him to leave, I am appalled when he sits down at the desk in front of me.

"Name's Haymitch Abernathy, I am a lawyer. No one sues anyone around here. But kids get into trouble, and the only money to be made is as a public defender for the district courts. You feel me sweetheart?" He mumbles. No way in Hell could this man be a lawyer. No way in Hell could this man have graduated high school.

"I need an assistant. Tell me, can you use a computer?" I truly feel like its 1970. But how would I know? I wasn't even a gleam in my fathers eye yet.

"Oh gee mister I can only use a typewriter."

"Very funny princess. You got a resume?" I reluctantly hand over one of my resumes to him. He puts it into his desk drawer without looking at it and extends his hand. "Congratulations you can start tomorrow."

"That's it?"

"Yeah I'm hungover and you're the first person to ask about that damned sign I put up over the god damned summer. What's your name kid, how old are ya?"

"Katniss Everdeen, I'm twenty two." I go to shake his hand but he recoils instantly.

"Everdeen?" He immediately sobers up. "You Lily's kid?" I nod, bewildered. He seems to think something over, but replaces his sober expression with a smug grin.

"See you tomorrow, you can come at ten. I'll probably still be asleep, just wake me up anyway." I nod and take my leave, he doesn't bother to get up and show me out, just a slight wave as he settles back into his chair. What the hell was that?

I tuck my braid behind my ear and try to make sense of my dumb luck. I didn't even ask how much this guy would pay me, but I had a feeling he's the only person in this town that would hire me. Everyone seemed to be weary of me when they heard my last name. I close my eyes and try to accept it. An office job might not be too bad, won't be as social as I'd like but if he pays well then it could be a piece of cake.

Cake. I can smell cake.

The bakery is right across the street. Peeta is outside helping someone load a large wedding cake into a van. I watch him shut the door and pat the back of the vehicle, almost like one would swat at a horse or something in an old western movie.

His shirt was so tight. I could make out every muscle. It appeared to have been black at one point in his life, but its days were numbered since it belonged to a baker. He was covered in flour. My lips suddenly go dry. I run my tongue across them. I imagine myself running my tongue across his bare chest in the process.

"Katniss!" Shit, I've been caught. Peeta is waving at me like an ape, his smile bigger than the sun. I smile back, trying to hide the shame I still felt gripping me from below. That's twice now I've imagined him naked. Thank god he shook me from it or else I might have ruined my underwear.

I walk across the street and greet him with the fakest smile I can muster.

"What're you up to this early?" He tucks a pencil behind his ear, his hair slicking back from a hard morning's work. I can see that he has a cigarette behind his other ear, and again I'm reminded of last night's wet dream.

"I just had a job interview...sort of." Maybe talking will distract me from the pheromones he's obviously releasing.

"Sort of? How'd it go? Where's it at?" I ignore his southern grammar and shield my eyes from the sun.

"At that lawyer's office across the street. Abernathy? I think his name was." I see him bite his lip when I mention the name. Great, another awkward response to a name. This town was beginning to bug me.

"Haymitch. Yeah I know 'em." His voice darkens, reminding me of our talk last night. Reminding me of the sexual fantasy I had while I slept. Of how he might moan my name while trying to catch his breath-

"Katniss?"

"Huh?"

"What's wrong? You looked a little feverish for a second." He brings his hand to my forehead, and surely my skin would singe at his touch. Not because of sickness, no, this was a fever of a different kind. "Come inside." I follow him without a word, I'm entranced by the lingering ghost of his hand on my forehead.

He hands me a glass of water and I sit at one of the empty tables. The water is gone within seconds and then he replaces my empty cup with a steaming plate of the cheese buns from yesterday.

"This is on me, so don't even think about pulling out that wallet." I cringe at his ability to read me so easily. I realize quickly that I'm starving, and the cheese buns are gone immediately.

"So we'll be neighbors sorta." He smiles, a little bit of cheery Peeta coming back. I return the gesture and nod. If I could bury this strong desire for Peeta, maybe we could end up being friends.

The way he's staring at me though, is going to make that very difficult.

"How was your night? You sleep okay?" what kind of question is that?

"Yes, very well." Why am I even answering that question? He smiles and I melt immediately. Why. is he so nosy and why don't I mind it? I really want answers.

"What's your deal Peeta?" I sigh, barely realizing that I'm thinking out loud.

"Just trying to be nice. You're new. You're...different." The way he says different sends a shiver down my spine. His eyes smolder like blue fire.

"Different...different how?" I almost forget to ask. I see him glance out the front window, and then pull out one of the black chairs from the table and sit down in front of me.

"You just...you just are?" He raises an eyebrow at me, his lips falling into a defeated smile. How depressing his expression is, I wish I could make him smile for real. He looks like he's been up since dawn, and most likely he has been, he seems to be the only one working in the shop.

"Let's go for a walk...we can talk outside." he stands up and offers me a hand, not that I need any help standing up. The politeness of the gesture touches me somehow, and I accept. The electricity I feel at his touch cannot be ignored.

"You remember when your mama came back here, three or four years ago?" He begins, his hands in his pockets, fishing for his lighter. He pulls a cigarette from behind his ear, and lights it, his hands shielding him from the wind.

I nod slowly, becoming more intoxicated by the sight of his lips on the cig. He takes a drag, and quickly flicks his tongue and bites his lip. I want to die.

"She came down here. Just up and moves into your grandpa's house. I haven't seen her since she came in here that very morning and ordered breakfast to go. Workin' at that pharmaceutical company in Pilot, doin' research or some shit she said." With his hair plastered back from sweat, he almost reminds me of some sort of greaser, I'm expecting James Dean or John Travolta to pull up in an old car and challenge him to a race. Its a good look.

His eyes squint in the sunlight as he takes a final hit, the smoke exiting his nostrils like a dragon.

"Prim comes by about once a week I reckon. You've been the only Everdeen that really makes her presence known down here in town." He flicks the used butt to the ground, putting his hands back into his pockets. We sit down at the small park from the other night, the only real place we can sit outside. The bench makes a painful sound as we settle in.

"Why is that? Is that why everyone is so surprised by who I say I am?"

"Well you sure as hell don't look much like your mama. Or your sister I suppose. But that's not the reason. You sure wanna know don't you?" His slight twang is evident as he lowers his voice.

"Your mama is part of an old family Katniss. Your dad's from up north. He was a good man, but he had no idea what he got himself into when he married your mama. I suppose she never really planned on returning to Panem. She swore it to my pa she'd never, ever come back. You know why? Your sister knows why."

"Cut to the chase Peeta." I didn't like where this was going. I tensed up the moment he had mentioned my father.

He studies me, again, and brings his hand up to my face to brush a strand of hair out of my eyes. I shiver at his touch, and I'm sure he noticed.

"I really don't wanna tell you Katniss. Maybe its better that I don't." We sit for a second, looking at each other. His eyes lower to my lips, and I feel my cheeks heat up. I'm sure he can feel it with his palm resting on my face. I inhale. He smells like burnt wood, tobacco, and flour. A manly sweetness. He leans in, and I'm sure he's about to kiss me. When he closes his eyes, I follow suit. He's about to kiss me. Oh my god. What do I do? Should I just let it happen?

His lips barely touch mine, as if a butterfly landed there, and then I hear her yelling.

"What the fuck is this? You close the shop to smoke and I come out here an' fine' you makin' out with this here slut? Get the fuck back inside Peeta! Stupid boy!" Peeta freezes at the sound of the thin, middle aged woman's voice. Her auburn hair is fried and pulled back tight into a bun, and she's dressed all in black.

"Sorry ma." He mumbles as he pulls away. I miss him instantly. His face takes on that dark look it so often has briefly, but then he meets my gaze and smirks. I see him wink and then he turns to sprint back up the block to the cafe. Mrs. Mellark watches him as he flips the sign to "open" and returns to the storefront. She turns to scold me I suppose, but then her expression changes. Instead of anger, its a brief look of recognition.

"You little Everdeen bitch. You stay away from my son. I don't want any of your bullshit." I see her back twist away from me, and fear covers her face. She's afraid of me. Peeta's mother is afraid of me?

The small park grows cold and empty the more I realize Peeta's left.

**Sorry for the long wait! The holidays happened O.O So i took a mini break from writing and got more into reading other fics :) There are a lot of really inspiring ones out there right now on this site! Here's a few that I love:**

_**Fire and Ice**_** by Falafel Waffel...a hockey/romance fic that just happens to parallel the lives of our favorite Hunger Games characters with the lives of my favorite hockey team, the Philadelphia Flyers :p**

_**Alone in a Crowded Room **_**by wollaston, a really emotional fic that has me reeling :) really nice work and descriptive writing. **

**I'm reading a ton right now, but these are my favorites at the moment! **

**Anyways again, I'm sorry for the long wait, and this chapter is more of a filler to get the plot going, but I'm almost done with the next chapter, so hopefully I'll be able to update within the next couple o' days! yayyyyy**

**Thanks for reading :)**

**~honeybooboochild**


	3. Chapter 3

"_You little Everdeen bitch. You stay away from my son. I don't want any of your bullshit." I see her back twist away from me, and fear covers her face. She's afraid of me. Peeta's mother is afraid of me?_

_The small park grows cold and empty the more I realize Peeta's left._

I sit there for a second trying to organize my thoughts. What kind of bullshit did she mean? I was just about to fulfill part of my sexual fantasies. Were they really that prude down south?

The brick in my pocket begins to rumble against my thigh. I pull out my ancient phone to see that I have a new message.

_Sorry bout that ;)_

I try to type of a response, but I just can't figure out what I want to say. "Oh don't worry about it?"..."What the hell was your mom talking about?"..."Please take me now. I'm naked already."

_No worries. Hope I didn't get you into any trouble. _

I hit send and lean back into the bench. Something was going on here. And I was pretty sure that my mom knew the truth. The heat of my anxiety was resting on my shoulders, and I could feel every hair on my neck agitate, as if I had bugs crawling all over me.

_dont give a flyin rats ass about Ma...meet me 2nite at the bottom of your hill? pwease?_

My agitation evaporates instantly and I can't fight the smile.

_fo sho._

I sure was spending a lot of my free time here with Peeta. Thank goodness for that.

_wat does fo sho mean_

By six o'clock I'm sitting on the old leather couch in the living room, holding my Nokia phone and checking the time every ten seconds. We never set an actual time for us to meet up, so it was safe for me to assume he would call me when he got off work and to the bottom of my hill.

But everything about today still bothered me. My odd job interview. The run in with his mother. Our kiss. The odd conversation we had. It was all enough to make me want to run up back north and back into Gale's apartment.

I hear the loose glass panes of the front windows shiver as the front door opens and shuts. Mom's light footsteps are enough to make the old floor boards creak and moan, making me feel as if the entire house would cave in on me.

Maybe she'd cook dinner? Should I have cooked dinner?

I step out into the hall, my ears searching for her voice. I hadn't had her come home to me in years, I was sure her habits of being too quiet had no changed.

"Mom?" I whispered. The hall was becoming dark with the November shadows and threats of winter. I could hear the nuances of movement coming in the foyer, but something told me to stand still. I felt the darkness on my shoulders.

The ambient hiss of quiet air came at me, filling my ears with heavy silence. I could feel my cheeks warming, and yet at the same time the back of my neck cooled with a frightened chill.

"Mom?" I spoke again, this time an audible edge to my voice. The house seemed bigger than a cathedral at this point, and it was as if I could hear my own echo mocking me.

And then I heard the front door open again, the elegant clacking of my mother's work shoes lightly caressing the hard wooden floor of the foyer.

"Prim? Katniss? I've brought dinner home!" She called out. I couldn't bring myself to move. I could have sworn I had heard someone open the front door, close it, and then walk into the house.

Suddenly, Prim's room upstairs sprung to life, and I heard her pitter patter of socked feet against the staircase as she moved down it to greet mama. When she emerged at the landing, catching sight of me in the hall, she stilled herself. She held my gaze, and like Peeta, she studied me.

When Prim was satisfied she made her way to the front of the house, and I heard them exchange frivolous greetings and conversation.

The house seemed normal again. No heavy silence, no impatient darkness. The hallway succumbed to its normal size, and there was no threat to me now. But had there ever even been a threat?

"I've brought your favorite." I heard mom whisper to me from the end of the hall. I hadn't noticed her walk there, but I felt my head nod.

The smell of buttery fried chicken began to flood my nostrils and made my head spin in the most pleasant way. Quick not to succumb to my mother's charms however, I heard myself mutter: "That's not my favorite any more."

Somehow in the darkness I could make out her eyes becoming glassy, and her lips twisting into a defeated ghost of a smile.

"Well next time I'll be sure to get your favorite. But for now, will it do?" Her voice is thick and glistening with apathy. Or is that not apathy, but hurt? Does she care what my favorite food even is?

My shoulders relax and I am defeated. I join her in the dining room and make myself a plate. Prim is pulling the meat off of her chicken leg, and ripping it into small pieces. It reminds me of a friend from high school, who was obsessed with being thin.

"Cheerwine?" Mama offers, handing me a tall glass of fizzing burgundy soda. I thank her softly and dig into my fare, regretting the fact that I told her it wasn't my favorite. Fried chicken always was and always will be the only food I ever crave. But I can't let her think she's getting to me. She still should suffer for the way she abandoned me.

We eat silently, and awkwardly. Both mom and Prim check their smart phones every five seconds, and soon I am fidgeting in my seat. I left my Nokia on the couch in my haste to meet whoever it was at the door. Speaking of which, it could be very possible that there was someone in my house right now, watching me. Waiting for the moment to strike. I could feel their eyes on me, burning a hole in my neck.

Peeta. Peeta could have been calling me this whole time.

Without a word I get up, and run back to the living room, my socks sliding on the hard wood. Sure enough I have two missed calls and a text from his number.

_I get out of work in ten minutes, I'll call you when I get to your hill. _

I feel silly analyzing a text, but his tone is different. Usually he types like a thirteen year old girl, but this seems formal and urgent for him. I can't help but feel disheartened by it, knowing that our meeting tonight could end up as dark and stoic as our past two.

After thanking Mom for the food, I clean my dish and run up to the third floor and into my room. I catch my breath when I realize my lamp is unplugged. How could she remodel the attic and forget to replace the outlets? But why is this the only loose one? Stupid old houses.

I take a look at myself in the mirror, my hair is matted from sitting on the couch all day and I'm wearing pajamas. I quickly empty the contents of my dresser onto the bed, picking out a pair of jeans and a soft black tshirt. I own nothing nice save for the one outfit I wore to the interview. I'll have to ask Peeta if there was a mall around here. I can't wear the same outfit to work tomorrow. Maybe he'll take me tonight. The thought of debuting myself at a mall scares me and suddenly my confidence is depleted. I can feel the scowl on my face as I attempt a bit of makeup, and pull on an old pair of cream colored converse I had thrown in the closet.

My phone buzzes. I answer. He's there. I ask him about the mall, he offers to take me, but he hopes I don't mind riding in a ratty old pick up. I laugh. It makes me feel better.

The pickup really is ratty, the old kind of ratty where there is a layer of grime on top of a lit up old radio.

I lean back into the torn up leather seat, letting my forehead lean on the glass of the window.

"Sorry bout earlier." He breaks the silence. His voice is deep, with a hint of an accent. He seems to have been thinking about it all day. I smile.

"'S'alright." I whisper. I chance a look at him, only to see him gripping the steering wheel all too tightly. "Peeta..." He relaxes and looks over at me. He's got bags under his eyes that are from way more than a hard day's work. "You alright?" He exhales and throws his blinker on. The gravel below us seems to scrape the undercarriage of the truck, and I immediately feel guilty about saying something.

"I'm...I'm not alright." I turn my body in the seat and wring my hands. He turns toward me also, but seems reluctant to continue. I hold my breath and wait.

"You don't know anything about this? Of course you don't...but you've been...feeling it haven't you? I shouldn't take you to the mall Katniss. I shouldn't be taking you anywhere." his words confuse me and I want to scream. What the fuck is he talking about. He must see it in my expression, because he puts up his hands relenting to my will.

"I'm gonna take you Katniss. I'm gonna take you- relax. I just, I just want to tell you a 'lil bit bout what's happenin' 'round here now." I nod my head, hopeful and wanting. Time for answers! Yes! This is it.

"I want to tell you but I can't. I'm...I'm supposed to invite you to church on Sunday. They...they want me to." I can feel my scowl returning.

"Church? "THEY" want you to take me to church."

"They're...they're a demanding bunch yes."

"Who is they?" He grips the steering wheel.

"I'm sure you'll be finding out real soon now..." I resign into my seat. My breath releases fog into the air.

The trip to the mall had helped remove the darkness from Peeta. As soon as he parked he was like himself, or rather, the sweet version of I had come to miss. I wasn't sure who was who anymore. Mister serious, dark Peeta; the man who pulled at his hair and smoked his frustrations away. Or the sweet, light Peeta- the boy who had a kind silliness to his voice that made my heart flutter. Both held a fascination for me that I just couldn't quite understand. I was undeniably attracted to both sides of him in contending ways.

I had managed to get a few outfits that would last me through the first few weeks of work. Just things to mix and match, nothing too fancy, nothing too casual. It made me feel a bit more settled in, to traverse the nearly empty mall the next town over. I felt a little bit more normal.

We grabbed takeout before he took me home, and there was not a trace of the frustration on his features from earlier. It made me happy to see him like that. I smiled most of the night.

But again, he wouldn't drive me up the hill. I could see the guilt in his face as he parked at the foot of it, maybe he wanted to. Maybe his transmission couldn't handle it. Whatever it was I really didn't want any excuses of his to ruin my mood. I smiled and said good night. We promised to take lunch together the next day so he could hear all about my first day on the job.

Everything felt somewhat normal to me as I trudged up the hill- hung out with a guy at the mall, rode around in an old car, made lunch plans. They all seemed like normal activities for a young woman my age.

Mama was working in her office with the door open. She acknowledged me with a nod as I returned home.

"Peeta wants me to go with him to church this Sunday." I whisper. Something about the question seems heavy.

She lowers her pen and removes the glasses from her nose.

"What was that?" Her voice is light and fluttery, almost weak.

"Peeta...He wants me to come with him to church this Sunday."

"Peeta wants to take you?"

"Yessum." She lowers her glasses to the desk and presses her lips together.

"Well alright. Why not I guess."

Her tone sounds resigned and flat. She's giving in to something. Little did I know, that at that time, that she was giving in to me.


End file.
